


Crease Patterns

by Isagel



Category: Prison Break
Genre: Beginnings, Episode Related, Multi, Polyamory, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-24
Updated: 2011-04-24
Packaged: 2017-10-18 14:21:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isagel/pseuds/Isagel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex. Sara. Little pieces of folded paper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crease Patterns

Alex has always been a tactile person, taking the world in through his fingertips, through the constant searching of his restless hands as much as through his eyes and ears; always touching something, and if today it’s Michael’s little paper bird he’s turning over in his fingers while looking through their notes on the final card holder, it’s not precisely a conscious gesture.

He’s trying to pinpoint the best opportunity to get within range of the card, lost in the details of the schedules and records and unprofessional surveillance reports he’s got spread out on the conference table, and he’s only peripherally aware of Sara entering the room - an internal process that’s long since become second nature noting her presence, filing it away as not a threat - until she’s next to him, sliding up to sit on the edge of the table by his chair, carefully not disrupting the apparent mess of papers as she pushes a pile aside to make room. He nods at her, still distracted, and circles what could be a promising observation with his pen.

“So yours is a crane,” she says.

He stops, pen to paper, his left hand tightening reflexively around the piece of origami he’s holding, and looks up at her over the frames of his reading glasses. Makes his fingers relax, the crane settling on the table between them.

Sara has her handbag in her lap - heading out with Burrows for a closer look at the restaurant where their mark likes to have lunch - and she reaches into it, pulls something out from inside a zippered pocket and sets it down beside the crane.

It’s an origami flower, intricate, beautiful. Along the folds, the paper is worn, the surface color scraped away, as if it’s been taken out, looked at, held and put away, many times over. Sara doesn’t quite let go of it, her fingertips stroking a petal as she speaks.

“He left this for me in the infirmary at Fox River,” she says. “It’s a bit dorky, I know, but…” She shrugs, the movement both quirky and graceful, and her voice is softly amused. The smile on her face, though… He’s never seen her wear her love for Michael so plainly on her sleeve, and he has to look away, following the line of her gaze to the flower on the table. “He’s not very smooth with these things, not when they matter. But as far as I know, he never really gave anyone anything he didn’t mean for them to keep.”

He’d like to believe that, but sometimes gifts are just necessity, the act of giving the only thing left to get you through. And Michael has one person already to keep his trust, his understanding, the taste of his body in the dark. He shouldn’t need…

“He didn’t give me this,” he says, fingers straying to the crane. “He left it behind as a clue.”

Sara shakes her head; out of the corner of his eye, he sees the light catch in the cascading silk of her hair.

“But you were the one looking,” she says. “The one who’d find him. I don’t think anyone has ever looked for him the way you do.”

He picks the bird up again, the paper glossy-rough between his fingertips, used and torn before it became this puzzle piece, and he imagines he can feel the dirt of Sona, seeped into the grain.

Michael isn’t tactile; he only ever touches with intent. But he shaped these things in his hands, crane and rose, each crease carefully made to let the paper fold towards the structure of a whole. Three dimensions from a single plane.

Alex shifts in his chair, turns to look Sara fully in the face. Her eyes meeting his are warm and open and completely steady.

“What exactly is it you’re saying here?” he asks.

“I’m saying, don’t stop.” She lays her hand over his, the touch unexpected, bright, and squeezes his fingers closed around the crane. Sealing it safe inside. “Don’t stop looking for him, Alex. Okay?”

The paper bird is a solid presence in his fist, and in his chest, he can feel something unfolding, opening at the promise of a new pattern he hears in her voice. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. He gives her the only answer that's not a lie.

“To be honest, at this point I don’t think I’d know how.”

Sara squeezes his hand again and smiles back.


End file.
